


Reflection

by Maidenjedi



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maidenjedi/pseuds/Maidenjedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Russell has some things to consider on the morning of Anne's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missgiven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgiven/gifts).



She looked in the mirror and frowned a bit. Her hair was greying at the temples after all, and she had been ignoring the fact for nigh on a year or better. It would dismay her less if she knew the dove grey pelisse she'd chosen for the day would not highlight it.

Age was going to be an adventure, she kept telling herself. 

She bit down on the sigh that threatened to escape and smoothed the offending tendrils back. She pinched her cheeks while she was at it, and the blush brightened her eyes and gave life to her countenance once more. The frown gone, she could plainly see that the threatening crow's feet were still feather-light, and she had no deep lines to lament as she knew some women did.

The clock in the hall chimed the half hour, and she stood up. It was not yet time to leave for the wedding, but she didn't want her dress to wrinkle unnecessarily. Sir Walter would note every flaw as it was and read them back to her, chapter and verse. She needn't add to his litany.

It was actually here. Anne Elliott's wedding day. 

She'd dreaded it, truth be told. It was galling to have all her words of caution thrown back at her this way, though Anne herself had been the picture of grace, and Captain Wentworth appeared to harbor little resentment, at least now that he had Anne on his arm and in his heart for good. When he appeared in Bath, she thought only that he would be a good catch for one of the Musgroves, and Anne would do well to appreciate the good Mr. Elliott in front of her. Anne had never been one to do what would appease for the sake of appeasement, however, and on some level, Lady Russell knew the moment Frederick Wentworth stepped foot in Anne's line of sight, any other scheme was for naught.

She actually did let the sigh go this time, and wrinkles be damned, she sat down again at her dressing table. She opened the drawer and reached to the back, behind her every day treasures, and brought out a small drawing in a gilt frame.

The Ladies Elliott and Russell, a commission done for them by one of their more accomplished friends, at a house party long ago, when they'd both just been married. Lady Elliott had held it in her possession until her death, when Anne found it among her things and gave it to Lady Russell, wrapped carefully in a muslin scrap. Lady Russell stared down at it now and tried to picture her friend at their present age. Would she, likewise, have begun to grey? Would she have wrinkled or shrunk at all? What would a lifetime with Sir Walter Elliott really have done to her spirit, her vivacity and wit? Would she have dulled, would she have given up altogether?

She looked like Anne in this picture. Mary had inherited her eyes, Elizabeth her regal neck and soft eye color. But Anne had the true look of her mother throughout. Looking at it now, Lady Russell could see why Anne's countenance had struck her forcefully as the news about the engagement came out. Radiant, happy Anne, at seven-and-twenty, was the very image of Georgiana Elliott at the same age. 

Scrolled along the bottom of the picture were the words "For Georgiana and Emma, best wishes for happiness and joy. Yours etc., Eliza T."

Joy, happiness. The very thing she was readying to celebrate today, the last thing she had considered ten years prior.

She looked back at herself in the mirror. She had not loved, not the way Anne loved her Captain Wentworth. Practical considerations had come first and she was a rich wife for a poor titled gentleman and little more. She was content with her situation, but she had not always been, and her motives ten years ago... well. She thought now, if she had to do it again, she might not have persuaded Anne. Her mother would have cautioned, but not forbidden, and love may have blossomed instead of being nearly snuffed out. Lady Russell, looking now at the picture of her dearest friend, felt the injustice of what she had almost done, however unintentionally, and not for the first time, wondered if she'd been completely noble in her purpose.

The clock chimed the hour. It was time to leave for the church. She opened the drawer to put the picture back, but thought better of it, and placed it against the mirror. She pinched her cheeks once more and smoothed down every wrinkle in her dress. The blue had been Georgiana's favorite, and now that Lady Russell really looked closely, she could see that the color brought out the natural golden hints in her hair, hiding the grey.

It didn't hurt to make sure she looked her best, for such an auspicious day as this.

To the church, she thought. To wish Anne, and her Frederick, the very best in happiness.

It was never too late, after all, for joy.  
-

**Author's Note:**

> I never wondered much about Lady Russell until I read your prompt, and now I think I need to read the book (again, for the 100th time or more!). Hope this pleases. Happy Yuletide!


End file.
